


10 Things I Hate About 'Sourwolf'

by Stilesaur



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Derek Feels, Drabble, Fluff, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Oblivious Derek, One Shot, Protective Derek, Sad Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 17:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stilesaur/pseuds/Stilesaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>10 things Stiles Stilinski hates about Derek but at the same time, secretly doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	10 Things I Hate About 'Sourwolf'

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [10 вещей, которые я ненавижу в «хмуром волке»](https://archiveofourown.org/works/954359) by [FatimaAlegra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatimaAlegra/pseuds/FatimaAlegra)



> I dunno if this has already been done already (probably has because everyone in this fandom are talented little shits-- no, no, you guys are very beautiful shippers who are also very good at creating ideas before I have a chance to even fathom them. <3-- xD
> 
> But I might as well had given it a go since I thought it hadn't already been done before. But without further ado, here you go. :3

_I hate the way you talk to me_

 

     “Shut up,” Derek barks as Stiles jaw drops from getting cut off on his latest dog joke. Naturally, Derek always did that though and it should be no surprise to him but nonetheless, he still felt irritated because of it.

 

_and the way you cut your hair_

 

     That’s nice. A new haircut. Compared to his now long and shaggy hair, it was nice. Where did he go? To the salon in town? Do they make him wear those little plastic wrap-arounds? Or did Derek have to go to the nearest witch, being that he has magical hair that sparkles every time it’s cut?

     “No, Stiles. I’m not _Rapunzel_ , for fucksake.”

     Stiles frowned. Whatever, it’s not like he cared anyway.

 

_I hate the way you drive my car_

 

     Stiles couldn’t help but moan and whine every time Derek swerved around corners and accidently bumped cars with the ones in front and behind of them. You’d think that he’d have perfect skills from the way that he drives his camaro but no, that’s an absolute false speculation.

     “What’s your deal? This is my only transportation, you ass!” Stiles yelled, still holding onto his car seat for dear life as his Jeep bounced up eagerly.

     “Not my problem,” Derek said with a deadpan expression, his eyebrows not unknitting themselves anytime soon. That look on his face was enough to cause Stiles to let a stream of curse words spill out of his sailor mouth.

     “Look, Derek. I don’t care how fast you wanna get to Deaton’s. You need to slow down.”

     Derek’s foot slammed on the brakes, causing a rapid collision between the dashboard and Stiles’ head, “Better?”

     “I hate you.”

 

_I hate it when you stare_

 

     He tried to ignore the look Derek was giving him by turning the other way and attempting to get into the conversation with Deaton and Scott about this so called ‘mistletoe’ but he could feel the stare burning into him, like an itch that wouldn’t go away.

     Stiles finally turned and gave into the bothersome feeling. When he did, he caught a look of wonder in Derek’s eyes before it quickly disappeared along with his vulnerability in this situation. It made him feel insecure about himself and that maybe the red mark was still apparent on his forehead. To no avail, Derek didn’t stop staring either, his green orbs burning into his amber ones. He only let the corner of his mouth rise as he watched Stiles flail his arms up because he couldn’t handle it anymore, “Why are you looking at me!? Stop it! Is the mark still there? Are you happy wallowing in your own self-pride of me getting hurt!?”

 

_I hate your big dumb combat boots_

 

     “Could you be any louder!?” Stiles half whispered/half yelled at Derek who had just climbed into his window, his boots making squeaking noises as he slid off the wooden border, “My dad’s just next door!”

     He should know this by now since he’s been making a habit of it lately after finding out how much help Stiles’ research can be.

    Derek shrugged through his leather jacket in such a way that meant that he could really care less. That led to Stiles blowing a puff of hot air in his cheeks like a blowfish. When he’s getting the chance of seeing Derek take off his shoes, he’s making a run for it to dispose of them in the nearest volcano. Seriously.

 

_and the way you read my mind_

 

     “You’re bothered,” Derek stated in his usual monotone voice, his eyes focusing on the lacrosse stick that he was fixing for Stiles.

     Stiles twitched at the sudden realization that Derek might have the ability to read minds. Or more than likely, is very good at reading facial expressions. But whatever he was reading, he wanted him to stop. He didn’t always like it when people knew what he was thinking. Of course, he’d more than likely blurt it out some time later when nobody would really care but right now, he needed to not seem like the kid who needed everybody else to reassure him how he felt. Especially when it’s Derek Hale, the worst of all pep-talkers, doing it.

     But Stiles being Stiles, shook his head as he softly bit at the skin around his thumbnail. He chose a different tactic instead, tackling another topic with sarcasm as if that’s what he was really upset about, “No. I’m just really ecstatic at the fact that you found the need to break my one-hundred dollar lacrosse stick into two.”

     He smiled because he knew that Stiles’ was lying, knowing full well that he knew that Derek would buy him a new lacrosse stick if he would just ask him to. And the smile was enough for Stiles to groan and kick his feet against the coffee table that he was currently resting his legs on, “Stop reading my mind. It’s weird.”

     “That’s not what you actually think though, is it?”

     “You’re right. Your mind-reading isn't weird, I just hate it.”

 

_I hate you so much it makes me sick_

 

     Stiles grimaced once he saw the face of the most unhappiest Alpha appear through his bedroom frame. He did not want to deal with this right now. Particularly on account of him not being able to heal fully with a werewolf watching him as he laid pathetically on his bed in a old t-shirt and boxers, a bin of used tissues filled with snot beside him.

     “I’m sorry. I’m not up for another day of research. Or possibly another _week_ of research.”

     Derek just continued to stare at the helpless human, his expression unreadable. Not mad or happy or even sympathetic. Just indifferent, or that’s what Stiles could see through his foggy eyes.

     Once he realized that Derek wasn’t going to say anything, he inhaled deeply before sighing.

     “But if you haven’t noticed, I’m kinda sick of seeing your werewolf asses everywhere. So if you could, I would be more than happy if you just let me rest before you threaten to hurt me for the millionth time.”

     To his so called ‘luck’, he didn’t. Instead, Derek took his laptop from his desk and did the research himself, secretly scanning through personal study folders of his that were not meant for prying eyes. Talk about a migraine.

 

_I hate it when you make me laugh_

 

     This was not the time to laugh. It could most likely be the worse time to laugh (other than a funeral, Stiles could agree). But Stiles couldn’t help his sense of humour and what he finds funny because he swears when he hears Derek yell at Scott for not buying his cereal this time, he can’t hold it in any longer. And the constant questions Derek was asking Scott about what he “had against Special K” and why he decided to go with “fucking fruitloops”, Scott made it even funnier when he responded with “Sorry, Derek. My mom usually does all the shopping.”.

     Stiles was on a streak of not talking or associating with them because of some stupid fight over ‘who gets to sleep and who gets to keep watch’. He had told them that he was never going to talk to them again and had made a huge scene about how he was always the one thought about last although he was a human. He had made it a few hours without smiling at anyone’s jokes or responding to someone criticizing his theories. But he knows they can hear him laughing now because the arguing stops and Derek and Scott peek from out of the kitchen.

     God, he hated that Derek out of all people could make laugh at the crappiest of times.

 

_even worse when you make me cry_

 

     He tried to aimlessly wipe the persistent tears falling from his eyes and hide his emotions from the beat up man in front of him. But he couldn’t stop them if he tried. No matter how much he tilted his head up to stop the flow, it didn’t change anything. Derek was still standing in front of him, flesh additionally red from the recent fight, scratches that were as deep as the width of a nickel. No doubt would he heal. It was just the waiting that tore Stiles apart. The constant fear of not seeing Derek again afterwards. All of it was fearful and goddamnit, he had the right to be but Derek wasn’t one that deserved to see him cry.

     “I can’t believe you,” Stiles shaky voice broke the silence, his eyes roaming over the face of his newly found friend but yet one of the closest people to him. His face conveyed a look of sadness, guilt almost. Even in the low lighting of his dark apartment and the distant flashing of thunder above them, he could still see Derek’s weak form inhabiting the center of the room, like he was told to stand there for eternity as a punishment. And Stiles hated him for it. For apologizing about keeping Stiles' up late. For not telling him that he was fighting off an alpha, that he most likely wouldn’t survive tonight.  And most of all, for allowing him to cry about it.

 

_I hate it when you’re not around_

 

     Stiles tried to entertain himself with lame computer games and long overdue homework but he still found himself looking out his window, waiting for Derek to maybe appear and scrape his boots over the sill so that he could yell at him not to. Waiting for Derek to demand the research that Stiles would claim he’d ‘have to ask nicely’ for him to get it. But it was twelve o’clock now and he had school in the morning.

     He hated the fact that Derek had the nerve to not show up for a week although he wasn’t obliged to.

 

_and that fact that you didn’t call_

 

     “Why didn’t you call me?” Stiles asked suddenly, causing Derek to pause momentarily from stepping inside of his room. Seeing that this was the first time in a week that Derek had been in his room, Derek knew what he was talking about. But the fact that he didn’t call him intuitively made it sound like he didn’t consider Stiles pack. But he did, that’s why he didn’t call. He didn’t want to bring Stiles into another fight where he could more than likely get hurt because he was indeed human and then Derek wouldn’t have anyone to blame but himself. Letting one of the most closest people to him get hurt was something he was not going to let happen again.

     Stiles tapped his foot impatiently against the carpet laid upon his floor, his arms crossed over his desk, waiting for Derek to reply. Stiles already knew why he didn’t call, he just needed Derek to tell him why. It would initiate the first movement of trust and truth. But to no use, Derek didn’t say anything. And that’s why Stiles still hates him for not calling.

 

_But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you_

 

_not even close_

 

_not even a little bit_

 

     “Do you really hate me?” Derek asked, his voice low, creating a pool of emotion to rise in Stiles’ stomach like a typhoon. His head was hovering above his hands, his body set neatly on the stairs of the old Hale house as Stiles feebly kicked pebbles beside him, his hands stuck in his pockets like they were magnets and his pockets were metal.

     “No,” Stiles breathed, catching Derek glance at him before returning to the ground, “I don’t hate you. Do I think you’re an idiot? Yes. Do I think you’re attitude needs to change? Yes. Do I hate that you act as though you don’t care? Yes. But do I hate you? No. Not by a long shot.”

     Before he knew it, he had his arm slung over Derek’s shoulder as his knee scraped against the other's by accident, smiling at Derek’s softening eyes, “Whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with me.”

     And Stiles didn’t hate him.

  
 _not even at all._


End file.
